


On the Cutting of Hair

by Ninet9redlillis



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is confused, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarves and Hair, Hair, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Overprotective Dwarves, hair cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninet9redlillis/pseuds/Ninet9redlillis
Summary: In Dwarven culture hair cutting is seen as one of the most grievous types of self harm. Bilbo, being a hobbit doesn't know this, and cuts his hair anyway. When the company discovers this they become determined to help their burglar get well again. Thorin of course thinks that its his fault and he sulks the whole time. Huge misunderstandings, fluff and comfort are abundant





	On the Cutting of Hair

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic so please comment. Tell me if you think I should continue this

Bilbo stormed away from the camp, his frustration getting the better of him. Even after the incident with Azog, when he thought he was finally free from such things, Thorin saw fit to point out his every little flaw. All he did was try and have find firewood, but apparently, he not only took too long, the wood he brought back was the wrong kind – wood was just wood to Bilbo, he would never understand these dwarves. As he walked away he heard Thorin mumble something about “useless” and “too green for this”. This was his first adventure why should he be expected to know these things, but still Thorin grumbled.

That was why Bilbo was now stomping towards a nearby river. He had to get away from those confounded dwarves before he decided to strangle the lot of them and just go home. Now that he and the others were relatively safe, he looked at his reflection in the river and noticed that his hair had grown so long that it was hanging down to his shoulders and getting into his eyes. It just looked so, feminine, not good at all for a gentlehobbit of the Shire. So, he was just going to sit be the river, calm his thoughts and cut his hair.

He sat down by the river, his curly hair falling in front of his eyes. Bilbo huffed and his resolve to cut it grew that much stronger. He pulled out his prized pocket knife given to him by his father, which he had the good fortune to have not lost it during the journey and slowing began to cut away. Bilbo thanked Eru that it hadn’t grown too much, otherwise cutting it wouldn’t have been nearly as easy. He was about halfway done, his hair a good inch shorter all the way around when: 

“Master Baggins, it’s almost – NO STOP!” 

Bilbo nearly jumped straight out of his skin as strong hands gripped his wrist and wrenched his trusty pocket knife from his hand. He looked up to see the horrified face of Thorin Oakenshield, who was looking at him like a sword had just plunged through his heart. Thorin grabbed him by the shoulders and asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing?”

Bilbo, rather annoyed at the king for his interruption, and still annoyed at him for his earlier rudeness replied “Well if you must know Thorin Oakenshield, I was cutting my hair, as I would think is most obvious, or are you to thick headed to see even that?”

The look of horror on Thorin’s face intensified “What?”

Bilbo should have guessed something was amiss by then but he was truly angry now so he continued “I wanted to get away from you and your muttering about my being useless and a burden and I thought this would be a good a time as any to cut my hair. I thought you thought better of me now, but apparently, I was wrong! I’ve had it Thorin, and it’s time you knew about it!”

Thorin stared at him, the colour completely draining from his face “you did this… Because… Mahal above, I was talking about the wood, I said the wood was useless, no good for a fire… But you thought… I”

Bilbo suddenly felt very ashamed. He had just gone off on an entire rant about Thorin being insensitive, and all because he misheard something. He had automatically assumed that Thorin had been speaking of him, and had just made a fool of himself. Of course, that didn’t really explain why Thorin looked like he wanted to throw himself of a cliff. And it really didn’t explain why Thorin suddenly hugged him for the second time in as many days. It also didn’t explain what he said in response to Bilbo’s vehement rant. 

“I… I’m so sorry Bilbo,” Bilbo flinched when Thorin said his name as he was so used to hearing the title of ‘Master Baggins’ “I did not realise… those things I said, I did not intend them as insults, I was just trying to express concern. I had no idea that you would”

As Thorin’s words trailed off, Bilbo shoved away from the dwarf, both touched and confused. He was glad that the dwarf had meant no harm, but what in Arda had Bilbo done to warrant this reaction? 

Thorin looked up suddenly, his face returning to its normally grim expression. He picked up Bilbo’s prized pocket knife and stuffed it into his pocket, and said, “I’ll be holding onto this. You understand of course.” 

He then stomped away, leaving a bewildered and once again annoyed Bilbo. Why had he acted like that and why had he taken his pocket knife? And what did he mean that Bilbo understood why? Bilbo finally just shook his head, and slowly started walking back to camp, trying to sort things out in his head, and possibly forming a plan to get his knife back.

 

Thorin walked briskly through their campsite, oblivious to the looks he was getting from the company. He had to find a place to calm his mind as well as his pounding heart. He could still see the Halfling drawing the small blade through his curly honey coloured hair, could still her the hobbit’s vehement rant on how it was his fault. The weight of it almost crushed him.

Bilbo was the smallest of the company, the gentlest. Thorin could only imagine how much pain the Halfling had put himself through, he had cut off quite a bit of hair before Thorin had caught him, and to cut off so much his shame must have been great. The dwarves who did practice hair cutting generally only cut off one piece at a time, but Bilbo had cut off nearly half his hair! Did my words hurt him so much? Though Thorin, his heart weighing heavily in his chest. 

Bilbo’s hair had never been that long away. Thorin froze at this thought, Mahal above, had Bilbo been cutting his hair for that long? Thorin remembered Bilbo telling Ori early deaths of his parents, of how he had been ridiculed for being half Took, how he had been alone for half his life. Could to Halfling be a cutter? Thorin shot a look at the hobbit. He was sitting on a nearby log, staring into the fire with a rather blank expression on his face. He wasn’t smiling, but he did not look like someone Thorin believed to be suffering of depression. Thorin silently swore to keep an eye on the Halfling, and to watch for any signs that their burglar was going to hurt himself again. 

 

Bilbo’s sudden hair loss did not go unnoticed by the other members of the company. When the Halfling bedded down for the night Thorin was approached by Bofur, who was arguably Bilbo’s closest friend among the dwarves. “What happened to Bilbo?” He asked, sounding concerned “What happened to his hair?”

Thorin couldn’t bring himself to look at the toymaker, not with the knowledge that he had caused such damage to his friend. But he did force himself to answer “When I went looking for him earlier, I found him, cutting it”

There was a collective gasp, which suddenly notified Thorin that the entire company had been listening.

“What?” Bofur chocked, his face draining of all colour.

Thorin grimaced, “Bilbo, was cutting his hair”

The dwarves looked around at each other in shock.

“But he was fine earlier! He was happy!” cried Kili.

“Was he?” grumbled Dwalin, “He hasn’t exactly had a good reason to be happy, especially lately” 

Thorin stiffened at that, unable to forget that it was his harsh words that had driven Bilbo to cut his hair. 

“But we’re all going through the same thing” said Ori “Surely Bilbo knows he can rely on us”

“Are we going through the same thing?” Thorin turned towards the group, finally looking up “Are we really? I think we all by now have heard about his life in the Shire”

“Thorin” Balin said cautiously, “You don’t think?”

“I do” Thorin stood “I think that Master Baggins has been cutting his hair long before this”

A horrified silence came over the group. Hair cutting was a very severe form of self-harm among dwarves. And the thought of Bilbo, kind, gentle Bilbo cutting his hair was absolutely horrific.

“We have to do something about this!” exclaimed Bofur, “We can’t let me continue to hurt himself!”

The others all nodded and murmured in agreement. Bilbo was their friend, he had saved each of their lives more than once, so they were going to save his.

 

Well, Bilbo thought to himself, apparently dwarven insanity is contagious. After his awkward conversation with Thorin the night before, the company began treating him like an invalid, even going so far as to insist on him having seconds at dinner, and an extra blanket when it was time to bed down for the night. That had been curious enough, but the minute he woke the next morning, the company continued to baby him. Bombour insisted on serving him breakfast in bed, well bedroll, and Fili and Kili were adamant about packing his things for him. Bofur even made him give him his pack to carry. He’d told the dwarf the he was perfectly capable of carrying it himself, but Bofur was insistent. So, there he was, slowly but surely making his way to Mirkwood with his friends, carrying nothing, and with Dori and Ori walking on either side of him, constantly asking if he needed anything. Honestly, Bilbo was trying his hardest to remember why he’d decided to go traipsing across Arda with a troupe of mad dwarves.

 

Thorin eyed Bilbo as they walked, his worry for the Halfling never leaving. The memory of Bilbo cutting his hair right before his eyes still fresh in his mind, and the dwarf king doubted that it would ever leave him. He hoped that the hobbit could find it in his heart to forgive him. They broke for lunch at noon, the sun high in the sky and a light breeze blowing. The weather was perfect and Thorin hoped that it would cheer Bilbo up a bit. He continued to watch Bilbo as Bofur handed him his pack and he sat down to sift through his things. Suddenly the hobbit stood and walked away, something clutched in his hand. Puzzled Thorin felt a feeling of uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach. His hand went to the pocket where he’d placed the halfling’s knife only to find it empty. At first, he assumed that he’d dropped it, and started to search the ground for it. Then he froze. Missing Knife, missing Halfling. What if, oh Mahal. Thorin immediately rushed after Bilbo, ignoring the startled cries from the other members of the company. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he was panting harshly as he ran, all the while thinking to himself, please let me find him.

Thorin eventually found Bilbo sitting with his back to a tree, dragging the knife through his hair once again. Thorin shouted, causing the hobbit to jump. Bilbo’s hand jerked in fright, cutting his cheek. He yelped in pain, dropping the knife and pressing his hands against the wound. Heart pounding Thorin snatched Bilbo up in his arms and rushed back to the others shouting for Oin. 

He needn’t have done it as when the other dwarves saw their king rushing back to the camp carrying a bleeding Bilbo in his arms they panicked, crowding around the two of them. When Oin reached them he quickly began to inspect the damage to Bilbo’s face and hair.

Bilbo squirmed in Thorin’s arms, confused “For heaven’s sake, put me down! I’m fine! It’s just a little cut”

“Why are you going this Bilbo?” Kili cried visibly upset and unable to contain himself any longer. 

Bilbo blinked, startled “Doing what”

“He’s asking why you’ve been cutting your hair” interjected Dwalin, earning an exasperated look from his brother.

Bilbo blinked again “I needed to cut it. I’ve been cutting my hair since I was 20. I’m perfectly capable of…” he trailed off, seeing the horrified and grief-stricken looks on his friends faces. “What’s wrong?”

After a log awkward pause, Oin swallowed hard and said “Come back into camp, and I’ll see to the cut Bilbo”  
Twenty. Bilbo had been cutting his hair since his was twenty. And he’s fifty Bofur realised with horror. Thorin had been right. Bilbo’s condition was even worse than they’d thought. He was a cutter. Bofur shuddered at the mere word. He just couldn’t believe that the kind, gentle Halfling was harming himself in such a way, that he’d been so depressed with his life in the Shire that he would cut his hair. Yet there was Bilbo arguing with Oin as the healer tended to the cut on his cheek, his hair another inch shorter than it had been the night before. 

Bofur moved to sit beside Bilbo after Oin was finished. He managed a smile, and Bilbo responded by managing a smile for him. That’s Bilbo thought Bofur, so brave.

“Er, Bilbo” Bofur started then stopped.

Bilbo looked at him expectantly.

Bofur steeled his nerve and said “May I brush your hair?”

The hobbit blinked, startled. Bofur wouldn’t blame him if he said no; it was a very personal thing to do, but Bofur felt he had to ask. Bilbo had no family, not here, and not really in the Shire either. Perhaps such an act might help him. 

Bofur of expecting him to refuse the offer, so he almost didn’t notice when Bilbo smiled nervously at him and nodded. When he realised his offer had been accepted, the dwarf grinned and moved to sit behind the hobbit where he could more easily brush his hair. Bofur was vaguely aware of the other dwarves watching them intently as he worked, but he ignored them in favour of concentrating on Bilbo. He worked slowly and carefully, not want to hurt Bilbo, but the hobbit seemed fine. In fact, Bofur could have sworn he heard Bilbo humming quietly to himself. The sound made the dwarf grin even more. The company continued on their way a few minutes later, Bofur practically glued to Bilbo’s side.


End file.
